Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS BY ARTHUR P. HANKINS Author of "THE JUBILEE GIRL," Etc. NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1922 COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. PRINTED IN U. S. A. CONTENTS I AT HONEYMOON FLAT II PETER DREW'S LAST MESSAGE III B FOR BOLIVIO IV THE FIRST CALLER V "AND I'LL HELP YOU!" VI ACCORDING TO THE RECORDS VII LILAC SPODUMENE VIII POISON OAK RANCH IX NANCY FIELD'S WINDFALL X JESSAMY'S HUMMINGBIRD XI CONCERNING SPRINGS AND SHOWUT POCHE-DAKA XII THE POISON OAKERS RIDE XIII SHINPLASTER AND CREEDS XIV HIGH POWER XV THE FIRE DANCE XVI A GUEST AT THE RANCHO XVII THE GIRL IN RED XVIII SPIES XIX CONTENTIONS XX "WAIT!" XXI "WHEN WE MEET AGAIN!" XXII THE WATCHMAN OF THE DEAD XXIII THE QUESTION XXIV IN THE DEER PATH XXV THE ANSWER The Heritage of the Hills CHAPTER I AT HALFMOON FLAT The road wound ever upward through pines and spruce and several varieties of oak. Some of the latter were straight, some sprawling, all massive. Now and then a break in the timber revealed wooded hills beyond green pasture lands, and other hills covered with dense growths of buckhorn and manzanita. Poison oak grew everywhere, and, at this time of year--early spring--was most prolific, most beautiful in its dark rich green, most poisonous. Occasionally the lone horseman crossed a riotous stream, plunging down from the snow-topped Sierras in the far distance. Rail fences, for the most part in a tumbledown condition, paralleled the dirt road here and there. At long intervals they passed tall, old-fashioned ranch houses, with their accompanying stables, deciduous orchards and still dormant vineyards, wandering turkeys and mud-incrusted pigs. An air of decay and haphazard ambition pervaded all these evidences of the dwelling places of men. "Well, Poche," remarked Oliver Drew, "it's been a long, hard trip, but we're getting close to home." The man spoke the word "home" with a touch of bitterness. The rangy bay saddler slanted his left ear back at Oliver Drew and quickened his walking-trot. "No, no!" laughed Oliver, tightening the reins. "All the more reason we should take it easy today, old horse. Don't you ever tire?"